Well, I bawled like a baby when they did it, but I can't remember when I've been this happy.
Maybe it's the going in and out of the hospital twice (that's right, twice. I had a repeat episode on Wednesday--still don't know what's wrong) in one week.
Maybe it's being back in my hometown finally after a hellish last semester of graduate school.
Maybe it's the uncertainty my future between finding a job and getting my long-term health in order.
Maybe it's the fact that I started off the season with them in Stockholm for my very first live Penguins game and will finish it off next week with them in Las Vegas for the NHL Awards.
Maybe it's that I got to tell Ray Shero in person on October 5th at the Globen Arena thank you for all he has done with this team because it is so much more than hockey; it brings our city hope.
Whatever it is, I am completely overwhelmed and overjoyed. This has only strengthened my passion (obsession?) for reaching my ultimate goal of working in community relations for a professional sports team. Because I know that this is more than sports. It's bigger than a Stanley Cup, a Super Bowl Ring, or any other athletic honor bestowed upon the Steel City. It is the pulse of our city.
And I am damn proud to be a part of it.
LET'S GO PENS!
Friday, June 12, 2009
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
The Going Got Tough
This weekend I had a horrible experience, both from my horrendous health issues and the hospital visit that resulted from them.
On Friday, fearing death from stomach and head pain that was like no other I have ever endured, I pulled over at a rest stop on 79 and called an ambulance for help.
I was admitted to St. Clair hospital where I stayed for three days.
I was feeling completely better, however, by the very next day. My doctor exuded a particularly shrewd beside manner, and I was skeptical about his diagnostic expertise.
Regardless, by Sunday night--two DAYS after admittance--everyone including the nurses were certain I would be discharged. I had felt fine for over 24 hours and had probably already been kept past a necessary staying period.
Dr. Lobur (but we could just call him "asshole") shows up late in the evening and informs me that I will not be discharged as a test result that was not to his liking had come back that afternoon.
I was furious for a number of reasons that I promise are legitimate (there are far too many details to list from this weekend here, and most are tangential to the point at best), and wanted to leave the hospital against medical advice, which is every patient's right.
I was dressed and ready to bounce out the do' when my mom brought it to my attention that insurance may not cover my costs if I opted to leave against doctor's orders. So, because of this, I was forced to stay.
Now, turns out this was not the case, and the next morning I did leave without official discharge, but no matter, here is the issue it raised:
Never in my adult life have I been rendered completely helpless in a situation I did not wish to be in because I could not financially afford to remove myself from it, or simply do whatever I wanted to do.
Pens game in Sweden? Four getaways to Las Vegas in less than one year? Michael Kors bag and matching flats to go with it? All done, because I wanted to, and I decided that I could.
Not here. Not in this situation. My ego was deflated, my will defeated. I could not afford to leave a hospital for fear of not being able to pay the bills.
And this terrified me.
I want to be able to do whatever I want, whenever I want, wherever I want, with whomever I want. That is true power over one's life. And I in no way feel that this should be the desire of all people, but I can tell you that I feel truly diminished without such control.
This experience shocked and depressed me like few others in the past have. It was a wake up call to so many things that I knew, but had never experienced. I want the power and influence that comes with financial stability and security. I want my significant other to play poker on Wednesdays with the board of directors of a hospital, because I wouldn't have had any trouble then.
I want a non-profit organization called the Pittsburgh Poverty Campaign that will work to end poverty in our region--but in a meaningful way. No band-aids, no shuffling. Partnerships and support from those people who matter who can really do things because they have all of the resources at their disposal.
I know one person, a veritable nobody, can make a difference. But I can't be that person.
I know I want to be that somebody who makes a difference. Starting right now, I will make sure ever step is aligned with that dream, is moving in that direction.
On Friday, fearing death from stomach and head pain that was like no other I have ever endured, I pulled over at a rest stop on 79 and called an ambulance for help.
I was admitted to St. Clair hospital where I stayed for three days.
I was feeling completely better, however, by the very next day. My doctor exuded a particularly shrewd beside manner, and I was skeptical about his diagnostic expertise.
Regardless, by Sunday night--two DAYS after admittance--everyone including the nurses were certain I would be discharged. I had felt fine for over 24 hours and had probably already been kept past a necessary staying period.
Dr. Lobur (but we could just call him "asshole") shows up late in the evening and informs me that I will not be discharged as a test result that was not to his liking had come back that afternoon.
I was furious for a number of reasons that I promise are legitimate (there are far too many details to list from this weekend here, and most are tangential to the point at best), and wanted to leave the hospital against medical advice, which is every patient's right.
I was dressed and ready to bounce out the do' when my mom brought it to my attention that insurance may not cover my costs if I opted to leave against doctor's orders. So, because of this, I was forced to stay.
Now, turns out this was not the case, and the next morning I did leave without official discharge, but no matter, here is the issue it raised:
Never in my adult life have I been rendered completely helpless in a situation I did not wish to be in because I could not financially afford to remove myself from it, or simply do whatever I wanted to do.
Pens game in Sweden? Four getaways to Las Vegas in less than one year? Michael Kors bag and matching flats to go with it? All done, because I wanted to, and I decided that I could.
Not here. Not in this situation. My ego was deflated, my will defeated. I could not afford to leave a hospital for fear of not being able to pay the bills.
And this terrified me.
I want to be able to do whatever I want, whenever I want, wherever I want, with whomever I want. That is true power over one's life. And I in no way feel that this should be the desire of all people, but I can tell you that I feel truly diminished without such control.
This experience shocked and depressed me like few others in the past have. It was a wake up call to so many things that I knew, but had never experienced. I want the power and influence that comes with financial stability and security. I want my significant other to play poker on Wednesdays with the board of directors of a hospital, because I wouldn't have had any trouble then.
I want a non-profit organization called the Pittsburgh Poverty Campaign that will work to end poverty in our region--but in a meaningful way. No band-aids, no shuffling. Partnerships and support from those people who matter who can really do things because they have all of the resources at their disposal.
I know one person, a veritable nobody, can make a difference. But I can't be that person.
I know I want to be that somebody who makes a difference. Starting right now, I will make sure ever step is aligned with that dream, is moving in that direction.
Thursday, June 4, 2009
Thursday, May 21, 2009
Bah Hahahahahahaha!
Seems that everything is back to normal:
Last night Julz and I, looking darling I might add, were bar hopping like crazy in desperate need of finding a happening place. On a Wednesday in the 'burgh, that's just not happening. We exhausted our resources in Oakland and Shadyside then headed to the logical last ditch location: the South Side.
Pittsburgh is the only place where nobody can be out and there is still no parking. So, we snatched a spot on a side street and bounced out the do'.
"That's such a cute place," Julie said of this modern, swank little condo.
"That's Max Talbot's place."
"Really?"
"No," I said, casually. "But he does live in the South Side and that place is pretty nice."
Just as I say this, a black Range Rover pulls into said condo's garage. Julie sneaks up to put the inside of the garage in her eyeline.
"I want to see if it's him," she whispered.
Now, there's no explanation for the next thing I say. A simple mind malfunction perhaps, but for some reason--even though I knew darn well there was a home game tomorrow I say, "Nah, they're in Carolina anyway." So, yeah, just ignore that...
Upon seeing only a leg and a flip-flop exit the car, Julie convincingly (and loudly) proclaims, "That's a chick."
I peer in for the first time in this whole ordeal, now met with the entire mystery figure--who looks directly back at me.
"No, that's Max Talbot."
And, with that, he closed the garage door.
Now, there's nothing particularly rock-star about this story. We didn't tell him off at a bar this time or anything. But, given that history, of all people, how funny was it to see him.
Also, the timing. We bar hopped like mad, just happen to park on that street across from his place as he was pulling in, and--obviously--one of the funniest parts of it all was that I have JUST SAID "Yeah, that's Max Talbot's place," in jest! Which was only prompted by Julie's admiration of the condo.
So, yeah. We still got it. That magical ability for everything to be funny, and for Max Talbot to be everywhere.
Last night Julz and I, looking darling I might add, were bar hopping like crazy in desperate need of finding a happening place. On a Wednesday in the 'burgh, that's just not happening. We exhausted our resources in Oakland and Shadyside then headed to the logical last ditch location: the South Side.
Pittsburgh is the only place where nobody can be out and there is still no parking. So, we snatched a spot on a side street and bounced out the do'.
"That's such a cute place," Julie said of this modern, swank little condo.
"That's Max Talbot's place."
"Really?"
"No," I said, casually. "But he does live in the South Side and that place is pretty nice."
Just as I say this, a black Range Rover pulls into said condo's garage. Julie sneaks up to put the inside of the garage in her eyeline.
"I want to see if it's him," she whispered.
Now, there's no explanation for the next thing I say. A simple mind malfunction perhaps, but for some reason--even though I knew darn well there was a home game tomorrow I say, "Nah, they're in Carolina anyway." So, yeah, just ignore that...
Upon seeing only a leg and a flip-flop exit the car, Julie convincingly (and loudly) proclaims, "That's a chick."
I peer in for the first time in this whole ordeal, now met with the entire mystery figure--who looks directly back at me.
"No, that's Max Talbot."
And, with that, he closed the garage door.
Now, there's nothing particularly rock-star about this story. We didn't tell him off at a bar this time or anything. But, given that history, of all people, how funny was it to see him.
Also, the timing. We bar hopped like mad, just happen to park on that street across from his place as he was pulling in, and--obviously--one of the funniest parts of it all was that I have JUST SAID "Yeah, that's Max Talbot's place," in jest! Which was only prompted by Julie's admiration of the condo.
So, yeah. We still got it. That magical ability for everything to be funny, and for Max Talbot to be everywhere.
Friday, May 8, 2009
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
No More Pencils, No More Books...
Done! Just finished my last bit of grading. Woooooohooooo!
The Pens loss tonight put a damper on things, of course. But, really, being done with grad school is an event that is overrun with joy. All that remains now is packing, graduation, and moving my butt back to the 'burgh.
Sweet, sweet, sweet.
Cinco de Mayo tomorrow...do I smell a party?!
The Pens loss tonight put a damper on things, of course. But, really, being done with grad school is an event that is overrun with joy. All that remains now is packing, graduation, and moving my butt back to the 'burgh.
Sweet, sweet, sweet.
Cinco de Mayo tomorrow...do I smell a party?!
Saturday, May 2, 2009
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
